Breaking Your Own Heart
by zashikabuta06
Summary: Inspired by the song from Kelly Clarkson's "Stronger." These lyrics are so powerful in describing Santana's struggle in finding her true self and Brittany's willingness to go down this road with her because she loves her. Basically, I am trying to write how I wished TPTB had handled Santana's coming-out, in a way that is not Finn-centric, but Brittana-centric. T progressing to M.
1. Chapter 1

**_Breaking Your Own Heart_**

_**Summary:** This is my favorite song of off Kelly Clarkson's album "Stronger." It has inspired me to write this Brittana fic because i feel that these words are so powerful in describing Santana's struggle in finding her true self and Brittany's willingness to go down this road with her because she loves her. Basically, I am trying to write how I wished TPTB had handled Santana's coming-out, in a way that is not Finn-centric but Brittana-centric. I hope that you will follow them down the road I am trying to create for them._

_**Rating:** T for now, but will progress to M in later chapters_

_**Disclaimer:** I am not, in any way (unfortunately), associated with Glee; these words are pure fiction._

shaking your head

like it's all wrong

before you're here

you're already gone

and even with the light

all around you

you're all alone in the dark

you're breaking your own heart

taking it too far

down a lonely road

you say you just want love

but when it's close enough

you just let it go

if every thing

you've been most afraid of

you've been doing from the start

breaking your own heart

too many tears

too many falls

it's easier here

behind these walls

but you don't have to walk in the shadows

where life is so hard

you're breaking your own heart

taking it too far

down a lonely road

you say you just want love

but when it's close enough

you just let it go

if every thing

you've been most afraid of

you've been doing from the start

breaking your own heart

you're breaking your own heart

it's not too late

i'm still right here

if only you'd

let go of your fear

you're breaking your own heart

taking your own heart

down a lonely road

down a lonely road

you say you just want love

but when it's close enough

you just let it go

you just let it go, you just let it go

if every thing

you've been most afraid of

you've been doing from the start

breaking your own heart

you're breaking your own heart

Santana slammed the door to her dark bedroom as she slid down the length of it. She was crouched into a ball, as hot, wet, tears fell down like rivers from the lakes of her dark chocolate eyes. She struggled to catch her breath and she replayed over and over what just happened.

She ran out of McKinley so fast that she probably could have won 1st place at the next track meet. She couldn't let them see, let anyone see, Santana Lopez, head bitch on campus, a crying, blubbering mess. She had a reputation to maintain and an image to project.

She tried to convince herself that this was why she broke so many traffic laws to make it home as fast as possible. She steeled herself to hold back these tears that flowed so easily now, in the comfort of her room. If she were to actually acknowledge what was really making her cry, that would make it real. More real then what had happened at her locker today after school: telling her best friend, her only friend, that she was in love with her. It was one thing the think about it, to obsess over it, to deny it, to run from it. But she was tired of fighting this battle every single day- it was like a war, where she had to keep running for cover, not knowing where the next ambush would strike.

Brittany was the only one she let in. She was the only one that Santana allowed to herself to be complete free- without the expectations of her family and culture. She could be her truest self with her best friend and did not have to be so strong all the time; she didn't have to worry about her status, her position in the hierarchy of hot chicks or her reputation. Brittany got to see the best part of her because she just magically drew it out her. Ever since they were in 4th grade, when Santana was the new girl in school, Brittany was just there and they were like peas and carrots. She was thinking back to that day, when they first met.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Ay Dios Mio, Santanita!

A small child with raven colored hair and carmel skin turned around and gave a look that any father would forgive. She looked at her papi with those saucers of dark chocolate eyes that mirrored his own. He sighed, knowing that when she looked at him like that, he could never stay angry at her for very long. Jorge could not believe that his little girl was already in 4th grade. Well, she was really supposed to be in 3rd grade, but since they had just moved to Lima, Ohio from where he was last stationed in the United Kingdom, she had tested above the 3rd grade level. Jorge was very proud of her, but he was also worried on how she would be perceived by her American counterparts. Santana had thrived in both the Paris and London school systems and now she was getting thrown into a whole new environment. Jorge was glad that this move to Lima would be permanent, since he retired from the Marines and was taking over his father's medical practice in town.

Rosa stood from the doorway of the kitchen and observed how her husband and daughter were interacting. She, too was worried about her little girl, but in different ways. She could see a lot of herself in Santana: strong-willed, stubborn, yet compassionate, and thoughtful. Rosa could remember that it was around this age where she felt a shift in herself: like she could feel these two halves of her personality diverging and fighting the battle of dominance. Sometimes, when Santana was really quiet and pensive, with her dark eyes showing she was some place else, she could feel the tension in the air. It took Rosa a long time to find equal footing between the two extremes. It was not until she found her soulmate, her Jorge, that she felt the war within subside. He brought out the best in her and knew how to tame the demons. She knew that that was what would ultimately temper her little girl; whenever she found her soulmate, she could finally be at peace.

She was pulled out of her thoughts when she felt a tugging on her skirt. She bent down to pick her little girl off the ground. Even though she was 7 years old, Santana was small for her age and often mistaken for a kindergartener. It was not until she opened her mouth and spoke that it was apparent that she was not! By virtue of being a military brat, Santana was fluent in Spanish, English, and French. Her father had been deployed overseas her whole life. She was born in America, but the family quickly moved first to Puerto Rico, then France, England, and now back to America. They had returned stateside 3 weeks before the school year was starting, so that Santana could get placed in school and adjust to their new surroundings and new life.

Mami! Mami! S'il vous plaît me poser! Je ne suis pas un bébé! Maman!

Rosa just laughed as she heard her daughter speak Spanish then French.

Jorge just grabbed her out of his wife's arms to spin her around the room.

Papa! Pas si vite! S'il vous plaît!

One of the reasons they wanted to have some time before Santana began American school was to help her sort through the confusion she would surely feel. While there might be a possibility that some of the kids spoke Spanish, none of the other kids would be speaking French. Spanish was primarily spoken at home but Santana had attended Lycee Francais ever since she started school at age 3. She did learn English but she was self-conscious whenever she spoke it. She felt most comfortable speaking French or Spanish.

Now, Santanita, parler en anglais, oui?

Santana looked at her father with sad eyes.

Pero papá, yo no quiero hacerlo. Quiero hablar en francés. ¿Por qué tengo que hacerlo?

Because, at school, the other kids will not know how to speak French or Spanish. You need to practice English, mija. Come on, let's watch some Nickolodeon.

Can I go out the door and play? I want to ride my...umm... Comment puis-je dire mon vélo en anglais?

Yes, mija. You can go outside and play. Your BI-CY-CLE. Bicycle.

Santana put on her rubbers and her helmet and marched out the door like a little solidier.

They both shook their head and laughed at their daugther's antics.

Nunca un momento aburrido con ella, mi amor.

Si, si. Now, don't you have to go into town, Jorge?

Yes, but I will be back in time for dinner. See you later, mi amor.

He kissed his wife on the cheek and jokingly marched out of the house just like his daughter.

When he was outside, he saw Santana was talking to another girl.

She looked like the complete oppostite of his Santanita: Tall, blonde hair, and the bluest eyes he had ever seen. He had remembered asking the realtor if they were any kids Santana's age on the block and she told him that yes, there a girl would be going to the same school Santana would be going to.

Hi! My name is Brittany! the young girl said exhuberantly as she extended her hand out to him.

Well, hello Brittany! Nice to meet you! My name is Jorge!

And I am Susan, Brittany's mom. Welcome to the neighborhood!

Rosa could hear talking, so she came outside to join them.

Thank you so much, Susan. This is my wife, Rosa, and this here is our daughter, Santana.

The adults all exchanged warm salutations while the two girls stared at each other.

Brittany finally spoke: Hi Ssss- Saaaannntannnnaaaa.

Jorge and Rosa smiled as Santana looked up into those ocean blue eyes.

Bonjour Brittany!

Brittany looked into her chocolate brown eyes and scrunched up her eyes.

Mija, en anglais s'il vous plait.

Oh, c'est vrai, papi. J'ai oublié.

Santana tried again, speaking so softly: Hi Brittany.

Brittany lips spread into a wide smile as she pulled Santana by the hand into her back yard, leaving the parents behind.

So, I heard that you just moved here from England?

Yes, Susan, I just retired from the Marines and we settled here in Lima because Rosa parents live in Columbus and my parents are here in Lima. I am actually meeting my father at his practice in town.

Ohhhh my goodness! You are little Georgie! I see it now. You do look like a younger version of Antonio Lopez. I was wondering who would be replacing Dr. Lopez when he told all of us his plans to retire. I guess his son is the perfect choice!

Jorge smiled warmly as he remembered why Susan looked so familiar. She was one of the nurses that worked with his father. He excused himself from the conversation to meet the elder Lopez. Susan invited Rosa into their back porch for some lemonade as the watched their daughters play.

So, Santana speaks French, Spanish, and English! She is one incredible girl.

And you said that Brittany takes dance classes? Maybe Santana would like to try that. I never had a chance to enroll her in dance or music lessons because we moved around so often. I am so glad we can settle down here. It was easier for Santana to move when she was younger, but Jorge and I wanted to stop moving because we wanted her to be able to make friends and keep them for more than a year. They both looked at their girls. Brittany was holding Santana's hands and they were spinning and spinning in circles until they got dizzy and collapsed on the ground, laughing.

Rosa smiled at hearing her daughter laugh.

Santana will be in 4th grade. How about Brittany?

Oh, that is perfect, Rosa, because Britt will in 4th grade too.

As the mothers conversed about Lima,their daughters were laughing and playing, carefree in the dog days of summer.

You know what Susan, I hope that our daughters become friends. Best friends, in fact.

Susan looked at them, giggling, in their own world, and responded to her.

Well, Rosa, they looks like best friends already. How 'bout a refill on that lemonade?


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Santana shook her head, like it was all wrong. She knew that Miss Holliday was wrong; that Brittany was wrong. It was not better with feelings and it didn't matter that she fell in love with her. She fell in love with Brittany, the first person she met after she moved to Lima. Britt was her first friend, her best friend, many times her only friend. She retreated behind the walls she let Brittany into, trying to piece back together some sort of dignity. The tears just kept falling as she wondered if what she did would make her lose her best friend.

The French would slip back into Santana's mouth whenever she got emotional. The language was just so expressive, even more than her native tongue, that she felt most at ease in it, especially when she was most vulnerable.

Rosa had just gotten home and walked passed the closed door of her daughter's bedroom. She was about to knock when she heard her talking. It took her a moment to recognize that Santana was speaking in French. Rosa knew that something had to be wrong, for her little girl only used French when she was upset. She slowly open the door to hear Santana exclaim:

Incroyable! Que tu es bête à même de penser qu'elle ait jamais aimé que vous! Comment pourrait-elle vous aime? Pourquoi aurait-elle que vous voulez, quand elle peut obtenir n'importe quel garçon ou une fille chaude qu'elle voulait? Elle ne vous aime pas, Santana.

(Incredible! How stupid you are to even think she ever loved you! How could she love you? Why would she want you, when she can get any hot boy or girl she wanted? She doesn't love you.)

What she saw reminded her of the time Santana's puppy ran away from home; her daughter had her back turned to her, shoulders slumped, hugging her knees, as she wept openly and screamed:

Quel idiot vous êtes. Elle ne pourrais jamais aimer vous la façon dont vous l'aimez. Pathétique, juste baiser pathétique.

(What a fool you are. She could never love you the way that you love her. Pathetic, just fucking pathetic.)

Rosa reached out and placed a hand on Santana's shoulder. She felt her stiffen beneath her touch, then spin around into her arms, sobbing even harder than before.

Maman, j'ai tout gâché. Je viens de foiré la meilleure chose qui me soit jamais arrivée. Je suis tellement sacré.

(Mom, I ruined everything. I just messed up the best thing that has ever happened to me. I am so sacred.)

Chut, bébé. Je suis ici, d'accord? Laissez tout ça.

(Hush, baby. I am right here, okay? Let it all out.)

She held her little girl tight and could feel her relax in her arms. After a couple of more moments, she could hear Santana's breath slow down and the feel the shaking subside.

She looked down at her beloved baby girl and just saw so much pain in her eyes.

Bébé, dis-moi pourquoi vous êtes tellement en colère? Quelque chose est arrivé à l'école aujourd'hui?

(Baby, tell me why you are so upset? Did something happen at school today?)

Maman, je ne peux pas vous le dire. Vous avez juste ... Je ne ...

(Mommy, I cannot tell you. You just...I don't...)

It crushed Rosa to hear Santana call her "Mommy." It meant that Santana felt completely defeated.

Bon, eh bien je peux essayer alors? Vous venez de me dire ce que vous vous sentez à l'aise de me dire. Quelque chose s'est passé à l'école. Quelque chose qui vous a fait très, très. très en colère. Maintenant, est-ce que vous AP Chemistry test? Ou est-ce quelque chose se passe à la pratique Cheerios?

(Okay, well can I try then? You just tell me whatever you feel comfortable telling me. Something happened at school. Something that has made you very, very. very upset. Now, was it you AP Chemistry test? Or did something happen at Cheerios practice?)

Rosa knew what this was all about but she wanted to make Santana comfortable and feel like she could talk to her about it. So, she just kept bringing up things she knew would have happened that day. Finally, she broke:

Non, maman, ce n'est pas cela. Rien de tout cela. C'est ... c'est la Brittany. Elle, eh bien, je ne pense pas que nous sommes plus amis que stupide que j'ai fait.

(No, mommy, it's not that. None of that. It's... it's Brittany. She, well, I don't think we are friends any more because stupid I did.)

Maintenant, Santana, tu sais comment je me sens quand vous utilisez ce mot, surtout en référence à vous-même. Je suis sûr que ce n'est pas aussi mauvaise qu'il n'y paraît.

(Now, Santana, you know how I feel when you use that word, especially in reference to yourself. I'm sure that it is not as bad as it seems.)

Maman, je suis en amour avec elle. J'aime Brittany. Aujourd'hui, je lui ai dit que elle, elle a juste ...

(Mommy, I'm in love with her. I love Brittany. Today, i told her that and she, she just..).

With that tears came roaring back and Santana began to hyperventilate.

Rosa knew she had to do something to soothe her baby girl. Whenever she gets emotional, she resorts to her native tongue. She took her hand and placed it under Santana's chin to get her attention.

Santanita, amar a alguien no te hace estúpido. ¿Cómo pudiste pensar eso? Dar a su amor a otra persona es el mejor regalo que le puedes dar. Y tú, mi amor, eres el mejor regalo que cualquier persona podría recibir. En cuanto a la Bretaña, que conozco desde hace mucho tiempo que estabas enamorado de ella. Baby, es obvio. Podía verle luchar con él durante tanto tiempo. Me alegro de que te finaly sentía como si pudieras decirme. Estoy tan orgulloso de ti.

(Loving somebody does not make you stupid. How could you ever think that? Giving your love to another person is the best gift you can give. And you, my darling, are the best gift anyone could ever receive. As for Brittany, i have known for a long time that you were in love with her. Baby, is it obvious. I could see you struggle with it for so long. I am glad that you finaly felt like you could tell me. I am so proud of you.)

Tu padre y yo sólo quiero que seas feliz y sabemos que cada vez que están con Brittany que son más felices que nunca ves. Desde aquel verano nos mudamos aquí, han sido inseparables. Queremos que sepas que aún te amo no importa que os aman, ¿de acuerdo?

(Your father and I just want to you to be happy and we know that whenever you are with Brittany that you are the happiest we ever see you. Ever since that summer we moved here, you have been inseparable. We want you to know that we still love you no matter who you love, okay?)

Santana was in complete shock. She thought she was doing a good job of keeping her emotions in check and maintaining the facade of the perfect daughter. She didn't think her parents would understand that their pride and joy was gay. She thought of it like it was a dirty word and she wanted wash her mouth out with soap everytime she thought or said it aloud.

Tanto si eres gay, heterosexual, bisexual, no importa a nosotros. Tú eres nuestra hija y te amamos incondicionalmente. No importa qué, te apoyamos. Tienes que, chico?

(Whether you are gay, straight, bisexual, it doesn't matter to us. You are our daughter and we love you unconditionally. No matter what, we support you. Got that, kiddo?)

Jorge stood in the shadows of the hallway hearing the conversation between his wife and daughter. He could not help the tears that fell silently as he could listened to them crying in Santana's bedroom. He had known since Santana was a little girl that she was gay. It crushcd him, but not in the way you would expect. It was not because he was ashamed or that all the dreams he had for Santana where gone. He knew well enough that she could still have a family, biologically speking, if she wanted to. He was so proud of his little princess and he hoped that one day, she would be lucky to find a woman that made her feel the way that Rosa made him feel. It crushed him that the world was so cruel to anything that was different and Santana had always been different. At first, she was the smallest, the only Hispanic girl, the only one with carmel skin, the girl who could speak 3 languages. As she grew up, she could see that hard exterior develop to protect herself; it was the same one her mother had when they first met. He remembered how much it took, how had to prove his love to Rosa, in order for her to let her guard down and let him in. He was not disappointed in her; he was disappointed in a world would keep beating his little girl down and keep punishing her for being herself as opposed to celebrating her unique individuality.

He cleared his throat as he entered the threshold of Santana's room.

Without a word, he knelt down and picked up his little princess, just like he did that day her puppy ran away. He sat them on her bed and just rocked her, telling her over and over:

Va a estar bien, Santanita. Te lo prometo. Se pone mejor. Se va a mejorar.

(It will be okay, Santanita. I promise you. It gets better. It will get better.)

A/N: I hope that you are okay with all of the different languages going on. I apologize if any of the translations are wrong. I have always believed that Santana was smart, like Quinn smart, but that she kept that hidden. The fact she is fluent in English, French, and Spanish, was one of things she was bullied for, so she started to hide that part of herself and thus began the building of the walls. As for her parents, this is what i imagined her coming out would be. While in the choir room, she played it off as if it was nothing, it really was everything. She still had to maintain her reputation and that was extremely private, on a need-to-know basis, and no one needed to know how she came out to her parents. I drew from my own experience of coming out as this is pretty much what happened when I told my parents., minus the French/Spanish- only boring English ;P


End file.
